


REALITY OTP

by frantstic



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Apocalypse, Chaptered, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Lots of it, M/M, Violence, anyway buckle up because this fic is a wild ride, as it is the apocalypse, may be potentially triggering but i'll put triggers at the beginning of the chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-08 18:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13464093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frantstic/pseuds/frantstic
Summary: Avid fangirl Gracie Green expected that the most extraordinary thing to happen to her at Summer in the City was meeting her long time obsessions Dan Howell and Phil Lester. This proves to be untrue when a fatal virus sweeps through the convention, killing everyone except for Gracie and the very two people she was there for. The odd threesome must travel across Europe to escape an evil tyrant who has claimed the crown for herself, and face not only the dangers of this new, post-apocalyptic world, but the feelings and secrets uncovered by the life threatening journey.Because after all, it’s the harshest conditions that reveal the deepest truths about us, truths we’re not even willing to admit to ourselves.Important Note: This is a PHANfiction, as in a fanfic in which Dan and Phil will enter some sort of relationship other than friendship by the end of the story. Please do not be turned off by the presence of the original character, she is merely a platonic companion of Dan and Phil and an extremely important part of the story. Perspectives will switch between the three per chapter. Thank you, and enjoy.





	1. Gracie

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome to the first chapter of REALITY OTP! if you enjoy this chapter, please consider following me on tumblr (dnpeas) as that's where i post these chapters first or twitter (dnpeas as well) for updates on the fic! if you don't want to do those things or already did and still like to show your appreciation, leave a comment telling me what you like about the chapter or what you think is going to happen next as my fuel for writing this thing is your validation and encouragement! okay i'll stop talking, please enjoy!
> 
> tw: mention of fatal illness

The end of the world generally starts off normal for most people. 

They get up, out of bed, get changed, brush their teeth. Go to school or work or get back into bed and they go about their business until the fireballs start raining and their school or their work or their house ends up a heap of ashes for some Katniss Everdeen type to stumble across twenty years after the End only to discover their rotting bones and the useless keepsakes that were the only part of them to survive. 

That’s not how it went for me. 

Today, August 11th, 2018, had been a day long awaited for almost a year, from the moment I sat at my computer screen after hours upon hours of waiting, eyes burning from the bright light in my dim room, finger hovering over the mouse, refreshing constantly, until the moment of satisfaction finally came. Two tickets to Summer in the City, confirmed for Gracelyn Green. Today, well, it was anything but normal. 

I had called Eliza immediately, my squeals echoing around my small room, hers doing the same, if not a bit more subdued than mine. That night I started at my desk, pencil scratching against the paper, etching the outline of the familiar curls and cheekbones, suddenly inspired by the prospect of seeing that face, desperate to make a worthy gift. I remembered I had stopped at the eyes. It was the first time I had realized that those eyes didn’t quite look right. From then on in every drawing I did of him, I was never quite satisfied with the eyes. 

That very same first drawing was hanging above my head, those eyes filled in with constellations. I had been staring at it all night, unable to sleep, a cocktail nerves and excitement brewing in my stomach. It was strange how one could plan a moment for six years yet still be caught so off guard when the moment drew near. I picked up my phone, just as the 5:59 shifted to 6:00. It was go time.

The blue morning light was streaming through the gaps in my blinds as I pushed aside my duvet and strode across the room to the outfit meticulously selected and draped across my couch days earlier. I called Eliza, sticking my phone under my cheek as I pulled up my ripped jeans.

“Hello?” my best friend grumbled, voice heavy with sleep.

“You're not awake yet?” I chirped, running a brush through my blonde waves. 

“It’s six am, Gracie, no rational person is awake right now.”

“Come on bitch, since when are you rational?” 

I heard Eliza sigh on the other end as I shifted my phone back into my hand and wandered down the hall and into the bathroom. My house was quiet save for the squeak of the floorboards under my toes and the click of the bathroom door closing. And the house stayed quiet as I spoke to Eliza behind the door, struggling to get my eyeliner just right and the morning tangles from my hair. 

At around 10, Eliza pulled up in her Range Rover, honking loudly. 

“Do you have your workout clothes?” my mom called as I pulled the door open extravagantly.

“Yes mom!”

“Because you have an hour of karate and then two of jiu-jitsu on the last day of your convention!”

“I know mom!”

“Have fun, be safe!” 

“I will!” I shouted, closing the door behind me and shouldering my heavy backpack, full of two nights worth of clothes. Our parents had decided that 17 was mature enough to stay in a hotel alone, which meant we wouldn’t have to drive back and forth every day of the convention. 

“You look cute,” Eliza said drily as I buckled in. 

I glanced down at my blossom sweater. Vintage merch was sure to get noticed. “You like it?”

“Definitely a statement.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” I leaned over and knocked the bill of her ProSyndicate snapback resting on top of her coily black hair. “You’re just as much of a total nerd as I am. More, in fact.”

“Yeah yeah, at least I don’t draw creepy fanart.”

“At least I don’t have a Call of Duty gaming channel.”

Eliza stuck her tongue out at me, dark eyes flashing in the sunlight. “How am I supposed to handle staying with you for three days straight?”

“We’ve been friends with me for eight years, I think you can manage.” I frowned. “Plus, my fanart isn’t creepy.”

Keeping an eye on the road, she reached over and pulled out the drawing of a couple lying together on a couch, long limbs intertwined, eyes closed, content and happy. “That’s creepy, Gracie.”

“It’s not,” I insisted. “It’s art.”

Eliza knew it was useless arguing with me. She leaned forward and connected her phone to Bluetooth, playing some old Lana Del Rey song.

“Is this necessary, Lize? Shouldn’t we be getting pumped up and excited, instead of listening to, like, the most depressing artist ever?”

“Well what do you want to play?”

I grinned manically, grabbing the aux cord before she could object and clicking on the playlist at the top of my Spotify. 

“You’ve got to be joking,” she groaned. 

“What? You like Muse!”

“Yeah, not in this context.”

It took us about an hour to drive to the ExCel Convention Center, and by the time we found parking, we had an two hours to get to the meet and greet line. The line ate up about an hour of that time, but after showing our tickets at the door and ceremoniously draping my lanyard around my neck, Eliza and I were in. 

And holy shit was it glorious. 

Crowds of people milled about the bottom floor. Some were dressed in dull colors despite the bright hues in their hair and the glittering piercings in their ears and noses. Others wore flowy, flowered dresses and high heeled tennis shoes, accompanied by ambitious cat eyes and smoky eye shadow. There were people in band shirts and onesies, flower crowns and combat boots. Within seconds I spotted a group of squealing kids a few years younger than me, dark black whiskers on their cheeks and familiar faces on their shirts. I was too excited to cringe, too electrified by the sea of people just like me. 

And the convention center itself was magnificent. Balconies and floors stuffed with merch booths and advertisements for the newest YouTube Red shows, accosting us with either Jake or Logan Paul’s ads as soon as a corner was turned. I would’ve lived here if I could’ve, even if it meant sleeping uncomfortably close to one of the Pauls’ giant robot faces. 

“Where do you want to start?” Eliza asked. 

I laughed out loud. She already knew the answer. I made a beeline straight to the merch booth of my choice, bringing Eliza with me. 

“Can’t we visit MatPat’s store first? They have a new Game Theorists shirt design and I want to support them but they’re limited edition…”

“Nope, not happening.” We were already in line, and a familiar face was already coming into view. 

“You’re a bitch,” she grumbled, drumming her fingers against the table at the booth. 

I shoved her shoulder. “Shut up, he’s coming!”

A tall man with light brown hair approached, smiling when he noticed my excited gaze. “Hey Martyn!” I told him. Practice for the real thing, practice for the real thing. “Could I get one of the new posters and a whisker hoodie in a small?”

“Sure thing.” He reached underneath the table, handing me the hoodie and the rolled up poster. I handed him my money.

“A selfie too?”

Martyn smiled and leaned across the counter, pressing my change into my hand as I snapped the photo, sending it immediately to my Snapchat story. 

“Thanks dude!” I told him, collecting my merch and striding away from the merch booth, trying to mask the shaking in my hands. 

“Did you just call Martyn Lester dude?” Eliza hissed as we walked away. “What are you, American?”

“Please stop reminding me of that, I’m like ten seconds away from dying of embarrassment.”

We browsed the gaming tent next, on Eliza’s not-so-polite request, only for me to watch her pick up everything within sight and promptly put it down after glancing at the price tag. I had a Princess Peach sweatshirt slung over my shoulder by the time she eventually settled on a DS pack with the new Animal Crossing.

“Mario? Really?”

“We’ve played together since the Wii game came out!” I said defensively. “It’s basically our childhood!”

“We never did beat that last world.”

“We should get on that.” I glanced at my phone. It was almost time. “C’mon Lize, we’ve got to get upstairs!” I told her, grabbing her by the wrist again and tugging her towards the nearest staircase before she could even put her change in her wallet. 

We ran to the end of the end of the meet and greet line, almost colliding with a smaller girl with a flower crown clutching a colorful book in her hand nervously.

“So sorry,” I stuttered, putting my hand on her shoulder to steady myself. 

“Oh wow!” she exclaimed. “You’re sunshineboyes!”

My face heated up. I had been spotted a couple times at VidCon last year, getting identified by the URL of my tumblr blog, which boasted nearly 30 thousand followers due to my fanart. Getting recognized always caught me off guard. I was just a girl that liked drawing YouTubers, not one of the YouTubers themselves. 

“Oh, uh, hey there!” I said. Eliza raised her eyebrows, turning to her phone. “It's nice to meet you!”

“I love your art so much,” she gushed. “Is that some of it in there?” 

She pointed at the folder in my hand, I opened it up, flipping to my favorite drawing. The lion filling up half the frame glared back at me, across from the large blue eye and pale face and dark hair on the other side. “Uh, yeah. These are the ones I’m giving to them.”

“Wow!” she squealed. “They're even more incredible in real life!”

“Thanks, you're sweet.” I figured that was closest to the 'ahhhhh ty! ilysm!!' sentiment I could get to in real life. 

“Can I get a selfie?” She already had her camera open. 

I leaned my head against hers, smiling widely as she snapped the photo. She opened up tumblr as soon as she brought her phone down. 

“Tag me in that, I’ll follow you!” I told her. Her face positively lit up.

“Oh wow, wait until I tell my group chat that Gracie’s following me!”

I blushed again, turning back to Eliza, who was still glancing down at her phone, amused. 

“What?” I hissed.

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just funny, that’s all.”

We chatted amongst ourselves for another hour, waiting as the line slowly grew larger behind us, and my hopes slowly grew higher. My heart was nearly hammering in my chest, and I had to concentrate on taking deep breaths or risk hyperventilation. I couldn’t gauge how excited Eliza was in comparison to me. Eliza claimed to only causally enjoy the pair I positively obsessed over. But I didn’t think it mattered. Meeting someone famous on any level had to be exciting. 

Even more exciting, I realized as the line started to move, if they had taken up nearly six years of your life. 

After another couple hours I could see the corner of a plastic tarp littered with SitC and sponsor decals, two tall, unmistakable shadows cast over it. My heart was lodged in my throat, no matter how hard I tried to swallow it down, and the warm bursts of excitement throughout my chest had turned to cold fear pumping through my veins, a cold fear that no amount of positive meetup descriptions could ease. Because what if mine went wrong? What if I accidentally blurted something out that I definitely didn’t mean to blurt out? What if instead of my totally fine fanart, I packed that one NSFW thing I did and then almost immediately deleted in fear that my mom would do a random computer check? What if I hugged them wrong? Or tripped over one of them and broke my face? Or broke their faces?! I would never be forgiven. I would go down in history as the girl who gave NSFW art to and broke the money makers of --

“Gracie!” 

I blinked out of my spiral of panic. Eliza had her hand on my shoulder. “We’re next.”

The girl in front of me had just disappeared behind the tarp, and my heart had just risen even further than I would’ve thought humanly possible. I was so close. Literally a couple minutes and ten steps away from a dream that had been six years in the making… 

When a loud crackling noise sounded through the convention center from the speakers in the ceiling.

“Attention Summer in the City guests and staff. Please remain calm. We have just been notified of a fast travelling, fatal virus spreading through London. We are putting the ExCel Center under quarantine. Attention Summer in the City…”

It took just a second to process before the ground under my feet began to spin. Eliza was clutching my arm tightly, nearly cutting off the blood flow with her sharp nails. The shadows were disappearing behind a closed door. Screams were echoing through the center, drowning out the calm drone of the PA system.

But honestly I barely registered the fact that my death might be creeping up on me with every breath I inhaled. 

I was just pissed that I wouldn’t get to meet Dan and Phil.


	2. Gracie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the deadly virus sweeps through the convention center and the world, Gracie seeks comfort in the very two people she was there to see, despite the darkness and death raining around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow another chapter already? no just kidding, the first five chapters have already been written! here's a secret: they're also already posted on my tumblr (dnpeas) if you're aching to know what comes next!
> 
> tw: blood, gore, in depth descriptions of death, fatal illness, vomit
> 
> (this one's a doozy, but it's about as gory as the whole story gets)

The rest of the convention did not share my sentiments.

“What the fuck…” Eliza muttered. “What the fuck.”

I blinked, my eyes still glued to the doorway Dan and Phil had disappeared into. I was returning to reality. 

“Gracie!”

“What?” 

Eliza’s eyes were blown up to twice their usual size, her fingers shaking as they wrapped tighter around my forearm. She slowly sank to the ground, bringing me with her until we were both on our knees, the carpet digging into the skin exposed by the rips in my jeans. Eliza barely had time to bring her free hand to her mouth before she began to cough loudly from the bottom of her throat. 

“My throat is dry.” She turned back to me again, breathing frantically through her nose. “Is your throat dry Gracie?!”

I swallowed. I felt fine, save for a heaviness that was descending on my heart when I noticed the undeniable fear in my best friend’s eyes. “I'm going to go get you some water,” I told her, trying to keep my voice level. It wasn't working. 

“Don't leave me!” Eliza shouted with a volume that should have alerted the people around us. 

But, instead, they were too concerned with the coughs filling the large room, harmonizing with the screams and the chatter and the overwhelming air of complete and utter panic. 

“Okay, uh. You’re okay, don’t worry,” I told her. I wasn’t so good at calming people down, that was normally Eliza’s job. But at this point I seemed to be the only one in her right mind. I slung my bag from my back and left it with her. “Watch this. I’ll be back in five minutes. I promise.”

I squeezed Eliza’s hand and didn’t watch as I walked away from her, worried that her sad brown eyes would lead me right back to her side. 

I shoved my way through the waves of convention-goers, almost catching my hands on dozens of lanyards and dodging the throaty coughs flying through the air. It seemed that most of the people had been drawn from the other floors and were meeting at the bottom one. Humans craved a group dynamic when death was imminent, I guessed. I even spotted glances of similar facial structures under hats and sunglasses, surrounded by burly guards with matching shades. Even the YouTubers were emerging from their caves. No one seemed to care much about them. I stood on my toes and scanned the tops of heads, looking for a pair taller than the others. I found nothing. 

I felt the heaviness in my heart grown stronger. 

When I finally arrived at a concessions stand it was nearly empty, most of the snacks and candy taken from the shelves. I jumped over the counter and rifled through the layers of soda in the mini fridge until I found a bottle of water. When I resurfaced, the screams had quieted slightly and a large group had converged in a circle around… something. 

I clutched the water bottle tighter in my hand, crinkling the plastic. I hopped over the counter again and made my way through the crowd until I was at the front of the circle, staring in horror at the sight before me. 

A young woman with disheveled, brightly colored hair was pressed against the floor, coughing nonstop into her fist. Her own sunglasses and hat were scattered around her, forgotten. Blood covered the carpet and her hands in crimson splotches, tears streamed down her face and her destroyed mascara collected under her eyes. Despite her appearance, so different from how I normally saw her, I knew exactly who she was, we all did. No one dared step forward to help her. 

Her coughing stopped, replaced with desperate writhing as she clutched her head. Blood flowed freely from her mouth. It had pooled on the ground when she finally stopped, eyes open and glassy.

Jenna Marbles was dead. 

I had never seen someone die in front of me. I loved horror movies and the occasional gory superhero movie had me intrigued but this… It was something completely different. 

I stared into her blank eyes as the crowd surged forward and I fell to the ground, my hands stepped on by countless pairs of Converse. I could barely feel the pain. The only thing I could sense was that pool of blood, still collecting on the ground. 

I wasn’t even sad. I couldn’t even cry about the death that had just happened right in front of me. The death of someone I knew. 

I needed to get back to Eliza. 

I stumbled to my feet, hand starting to burn now, and I picked up the abandoned water bottle on the ground before I started sprinting towards the staircase. I nearly ran into a small girl, the one I had talked to in line before the meet and greet.

“Gracie…” she croaked. She coughed loudly, splattering blood across my face before she collapsed in my arms. 

I dropped her almost immediately, gagging on the smell of the blood and her body. I pulled my sweater over my head, placing it over her face. Half to pay my respects, half because it too was covered in blood. 

I continued up the stairs.

The meet and greet line was nearly vacant, save for a couple bodies and Eliza on the floor, sobbing into her blood soaked hands. It was the worst thing I had ever seen, my beautiful friend, crumbled on the floor just as Jenna was. I felt my eyes burn.

“Eliza,” I muttered, handing her the water bottle and leaning down next to her. “Eliza…”

“Gracie.” She took the bottle and poured half of it down her throat, causing another round of wracking coughs. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Pretty shitty,” she groaned, trying for a smile.

I pulled her close to my chest, stroking her hair and pressing my lips to the top of her head. My poor friend, my Eliza. 

“Why are you okay?” she whispered against my shirt. “Everyone is dying but you’re not…”

“You’re not dying,” I told her.

“Please Gracie.” She coughed again. “Why aren’t you sick?”

“I don’t know,” I muttered. “Maybe the symptoms haven’t happened yet.”

“No. No…” Eliza grabbed my cheek, our eyes locking. “You’re alive for a reason. Please stay that way. For me.”

“Eliza…”

“I love you Gracie.”

With the last bit of energy she had in her, she pulled my face closer to mine and connected our lips. I was paralyzed with shock. She tasted like blood and sweat, but underneath that, something sweet that I couldn't detect. Before I could say anything, her eyes fell closed and she collapsed into my arms. 

“Eliza.” I tucked a spare strand of hair behind her ear. “ELIZA!”

I stayed like that for nearly an hour, disassociated from the world, from the death. The only thing I could feel was Eliza’s body, still warm against me. 

But after that hour, I needed to go. 

I laid Eliza’s body down on the group, using the sleeve of her shirt to wipe the blood from her face and hands. I then dug through Eliza’s backpack, pulling out her clothes and some toiletries that could be useful. 

I had read an enough dystopian novels to know this was the right thing to do. Even though I had no idea what to do next. I didn’t know what was happening. Whether I was the only person alive or one of many. The PA system said the virus had spread through London. Which meant it had probably affected the whole city by now. But was it just the city? Or the country as well? Or maybe… the whole world?

Was I the only person left in the whole world?

That couldn’t be possible. I wasn’t special enough to be the only person alive, in the world. 

Was I?

Before I could think about it any more, I vomited onto the carpet, only inches away from Eliza’s lifeless figure. Once my stomach was empty, I stood up on my feet shakily, my eyes landing on an unmarked, normal door. 

Except for the fact that it wasn’t normal. It was the door Dan and Phil had disappeared behind when shit officially hit the fan. 

I took a step towards it, the art in my bag heavy on my back. Did I want to see Dan and Phil’s dead bodies? Did I want to see my idols, splayed across the carpet, covered in blood, still and lifeless?

But they were the only other people in here I cared to give a send off to. 

I took another step towards the door, and another, until my hand was on the doorknob. I inhaled and turned, unbelievably afraid of what I was going to see. 

But I should’ve known that I wasn’t special enough to be the only one alive. 

Daniel Howell was standing across from me, pointing a gun at the space between my eyes. I threw my hands up. 

“Okay okay, no need to shoot!” I squealed. I wasn’t convinced he would anyway. His arms were shaking so much there was no way he could get a clean shot even if he had the guts. “My name’s Gracie. I won’t hurt you guys. I promise.”

My eyes drifted to Phil, peeking out from behind Dan. He looked utterly terrified. It felt wrong seeing him like that, without his normal mask of immaturity and happiness. It was like I had walked in on him naked instead of cowering behind his best friend.

“What’s going on out there?”

I looked back up to Dan, who had tried to speak the words with an ounce of strength. His voice trembled, making him seem all the more pathetic. 

“We heard yelling and uh, crying,” he continued. “That was around the time he collapsed…”

I followed Dan’s eyes to the security guard on the ground, blood staining his lips. 

“We didn’t think it would be smart to leave.” Dan swallowed. The muscles in his shoulders seemed to have relaxed, but I was still nervous with that gun pointed right at me. 

“There was a virus,” I told them. “It was really fast. It… it took the entire convention center. It took my best friend.”

My voice broke and my eyes started to burn. Shit not here. Not in front of them. 

“Your best friend?” 

Phil’s voice was low and steady, as soothing as the sound of rain against a window. My shoulders relaxed. I fell on the floor, face buried in my hands, tears trickling from in between my fingers and onto the carpet. 

Someone's warm hands wrapped around me, pressing me closer to his chest so I could hear his beating heart thumping in my ears. Phil smelled like aftershave and vanilla, and he was as gentle as the tumblr posts claimed. 

“I’m so sorry,” Phil muttered. His voice against my hair let out a fresh wave of sobs. This wasn’t how I imagined hugging Phil Lester. I was supposed to be crying tears of joy and showing him my drawings, not breaking down and feeling like he was the only thing tethering me to a world that was crumbling beneath my feet. Everything had gone wrong. Everything had changed. Everything and everyone I once knew was dead. 

All except for these two.

I also remembered reading on the countless meetup summaries that Phil would never pull away from a hug. He would stand there forever with his arms around you until you stepped away. I could’ve stayed there forever, safe and warm, trapped in that small room for all eternity. I wanted to. I wanted to forget what had happened outside. 

You’re alive for a reason. 

But Eliza was right. I was alive. Dan and Phil were alive. We could be the only ones left for all I knew. And there must have been some reason for that. 

I took a final breath and pulled away from Phil. I rubbed my eyes, smudging my mascara, and stood up shakily, arms wrapped around my chest. Phil followed suit.

“I’m okay,” I told him and Dan. It felt more like I was assuring myself instead of the two of them though. The gun was still clutched in Dan’s left hand, his knuckles white, but it was rested at his side, no longer pointing at me. 

“Good.” Phil patted my shoulder in an awkward display of comfort. 

“But everyone out there…” Dan trailed off.

“Dead,” I filled in. “It’s completely silent.”

Phil’s face drained of color. “Martyn.”

He pulled open the door and ran through the convention center. Dan and I shared a look before following, watching as he searched his own merch tent. It was torn apart, backpacks hanging from hooks by one strap, posters torn, and shelves empty of shirts. But neither Martyn or Cornelia were anywhere to be seen.

“Where are they?” Phil asked me. I struggled to find a response. 

“I didn't see them after the virus hit,” I explained. “They could be anywhere.” 

“Or they could be dead.” 

The three of us were silent. The entire world was silent. Until Dan’s eyes began to wander and he cried out when they fell on a body. 

She had collapsed with her arm stretching forward, like she had died grasping for something just out of reach. Her platinum blonde ponytail was splayed around her head like a halo, her large green eyes staring emptily at the ceiling. The blood was drying around her mouth like poorly applied lipstick. I swallowed another wave of vomit rising in my throat. 

Phil made a sickly noise and turned away while Dan knelt at Louise’s side, clutching her cold hands as if she would return to life if he squeezed hard enough. 

“Fuck,” I murmured, staring down at her. It was so strange that someone so full of life in my computer screen the day before was now in front of me, like this. 

“We should bury her or something.” Dan’s voice was rising desperately. “We need to bury her!”

“Bury her where?” I asked him, matching the pitch of his voice. “We’re in a convention center, not a cemetery.” 

“Damn it, somewhere outside you idiot!” he yelled. I wavered. Dan yelling at me was almost as unsettling as Louise’s dead body. 

“Dan!” Phil reprimanded. 

I scoffed and turned on my heel, ready to leave. Maybe what they said about YouTubers was true. Their whole kindness act was just that, an act. 

“Gracie please!” 

I stopped. Phil’s voice was just as calm and soothing as before.

“He didn't mean it,” Phil tried to explain. “He's just upset.”

“He can speak for himself,” I replied. But I turned around nonetheless. Dan was still glaring at me. Phil’s brows were furrowed with concern. 

“Please don't go off alone Gracie, it's not safe,” Phil told me. I almost laughed.

I wasn't the problem here. But those two? Out of shape and never outside? If they wanted to stay alive it would be up to me. 

And sure, maybe I was jumping the gun. Maybe the world would be peaceful and normal when we stepped outside. 

But I highly doubted it.

And even if Dan Howell was actually an asshole, he was still an asshole I had grown up idolizing. 

“Fine,” I said, my voice low. “Then we should leave.”

“Shouldn’t we look for more of our friends?” Dan’s voice was full of mock authority, as if he genuinely thought he was the one leading me. 

“I don’t think that would be very good for us mentally.” I swung my head around again so I faced the glass doors, shut and covered with curtains from the brief hour of quarantine. “It’s better we just go.”

And so we did. And the tragedy wasn’t isolated inside the bubble of the Summer in the City convention. Buses and cabs and cars were pulled over all along the pavement, so abundant it was as if they had flooded the street. Shop windows were smashed, doors were pried open. People were huddled together, unmoving, or splayed out in the middle of the street, their abandoned bodies on display. The metallic smell of blood filled the air, and the distant sound of a car alarm was the only thing one could hear in the city that was so loud only moments ago. 

“Where to now?” Phil asked, cutting through the silence. 

“Home,” Dan answered for me. 

“Is it close enough to walk?”

I saw the two of them exchange an uncomfortable glance after the question left my mouth. However, given the circumstances, it seemed frivolous that they were worried about a fan knowing where they lived.

“I think we can make it,” Phil said. 

I nodded, and waited for him to point to the right before taking my first step forward. Phil filed in behind me, and Dan behind him. When I looked back, I noticed Dan staring intently at the back of Phil’s head, gaze never wavering, even though he was biting his lip to keep it from trembling. 

For the first time since the announcement the person I once was flickered like a flame in chest. 

And I wondered if now, at the end of the world, I would get to see something that no one else like me had ever seen before.


	3. Dan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Dan, Phil, and Gracie travel to safety, they meet a dangerous adversary and make a drastic decision for the good of each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you all enjoy this chapter! i’ll be posting for frequently so i can catch up to what i have posted on tumblr, so stay tuned for that!
> 
> twitter/tumblr: dnpeas
> 
> tw: minor gun violence

Dan didn’t know what to think of Gracie. 

She seemed to appear fiercer than she really was. Her curly blonde hair was hanging in a high ponytail. Splatters of blood stained her collarbones and neck. She was walking evenly, one foot in front of the other, like the hours they had been trudging on the harsh pavement had no effect on her muscles. Dan envied the ease at which she carried herself. He felt as if he was about to collapse at any moment, his calves and thighs were nearly on fire by the time he reached his street.

“It’s just over there,” Phil announced, pointing down the road. 

“How much further?” 

“Two kilometers, maybe. We don’t normally walk this way.”

Gracie looked back at the two of them. “Maybe we should take a rest.” Dan was on the ground before she could finish her sentence.

He watched as Gracie pulled out a bottle of water from her backpack and took a sip. It was covered in stickers, her name, and two letters in the center. XC. Dan longed to grab the bottle from her hands and take a sip, but he felt as if that was crossing a boundary he wasn’t prepared to cross.

He thought that by now both she and Phil had forgotten that Gracie was a fan, and therefore capable of anything and everything. She seemed level headed and rational now, but she had the hungry glint in her eyes Dan sometimes saw in the girls that reached up to hug him in those meet and greet lines. She was different from more of the ones he saw. She knew how the world of a fangirl worked.

That sort of understanding of his and Phil’s fanbase could, and most likely would, lead to a sort of understanding of him and Phil themselves.

Dan cast his eyes downward. His white shoes were stained with streaks of black. He had never walked this far in them. 

“Are you guys ready?”

Dan looked up at Gracie, who had tucked her water bottle back to her backpack, and was staring down Dan and Phil’s street confidently. Dan’s brow furrowed, his eyes drawn to a group of people coming down the road behind Gracie. It was strange to see them. A small part of Dan had wondered if they were the only ones left. 

Yet, there they were, marching towards them, clear as day. As they grew closer, Dan could tell they were led by someone, a short female figure in navy blue, with brown hair that hung just past her chin. He watched as she noticed the three of them and raised her hand. The crowd halted shakily.

“Hello,” Gracie said. Her tone was less of a greeting one and more of a cautious one, dipping her toe in the pool to test the temperature. “I’m Gracie.”

The woman didn't reply. She instead stood up straighter and stared Gracie down. She was several inches shorter than Dan and Phil’s companion, but from the furrow of her thick eyebrows to the menacing glint in her eyes, her presence seemed larger than life. A man standing next to her, wearing his own, poorly fitted, navy uniform, cast the woman an anxious glance and stepped forward. 

“Uh,” he began, looking back to the woman as if for permission. She didn’t budge. “You are in the presence of Her Majesty the Queen Marilynn Williams. She requests that you join us, as it is your best chance of survival in this new world.”

“I’m sorry what?” Gracie spat. Marilynn blinked. 

“Why can’t she speak for herself and stop acting like this is fucking Game of Thrones?”

Marilynn stepped forward. “Are you denying my protection?”

Gracie reached into her back pocket and pulled out the pistol Dan had sworn he had minutes before. Had she pickpocketed him? “We have our own protection, thanks.”

The other woman smiled. “One gun won’t get you far. What happens when you run out of bullets? This isn’t America. You can’t loot one from any old store on the street.”

“In that case, what makes you so certain you’ll have any protection?”

Marilynn tapped her belt buckle, Britain’s lion gleaming in the sunlight. “An officer of the Royal Military has certain privileges normal citizens do not.”

This seemed to bother Gracie. “So what? You’re just going to steal all of Britain’s arms?”

“There’s no one to steal from,” Marilynn scoffed. “The generals, the lieutenants, the Prime Minister. Even the goddamn Queen. Everyone is dead.”

“I’m not dead.”

“Not yet.” Marilynn straightened, letting her hands rest behind her back. “But you will be. World leaders have been killed. Only a few are left, for reasons unknown. Cults will arise. Anarchy will ensue. The safest place is here, in London. Under my control and containment. Otherwise you risk the dangers the outside world will bring.”

“How are we supposed to know you won’t bring just as much danger?”

Gracie and Dan both turned towards Phil, startled. He flushed and stammered out another sentence.   
“All I’m saying is, what qualifies a member of the military to basically be the new queen?”

Marilynn crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s your name?”

“Phil.”

“Well, Phil. Someone who has dedicated her life to protecting this country is the only one truly capable of continuing to do the same thing.”

“But you don’t know anything about ruling!” Gracie insisted. “If it’s just you, England is just going to become a monarchy again!”

“There isn’t a place for a Parliament in the apocalypse.”

Marilynn’s eyes had grown steely, any sort of friendliness wiped from her face. She took a slight step forward, and Dan tried to resist the urge to turn and run. But Gracie stayed completely still until Marilynn was a mere couple feet away from her. The two stared each other down like a pair of lions, ready to pounce at any moment. 

“You remind me of me, when I was your age,” Marilynn said. Her voice had dropped in pitch, making her seem all the more menacing. “Ambitious. Thinking you can take care of yourself and the people you love.”

Marilynn’s eyes shifted towards Dan and Phil. 

“But you can’t. You need my protection. For your own good.”

“I will not be ruled by a queen who has no idea what she’s doing.”

Marilynn stiffened. “Then I’m afraid you’ve left me no choice.” 

It was as if Gracie knew exactly what she was going to do. She surged forward as soon as Marilynn turned her head. The gun in her hand made an ominous click, and it was against Marilynn's temple before Dan could stumble back in alarm.

“Let us go,” Gracie growled. Dan’s eyes didn’t miss her fist trembling at her side. 

Marilynn narrowed her eyes. “You have no idea what you’re doing,” she hissed. “Go with me, find safety in this new world, or you will be destroyed.”

“Fuck. You.” 

“Let them go,” Marilynn muttered. “You’ve made your first enemy, Gracie.”

“I think I’ll cope.”

Gracie kept her gun up as she stepped away. She jerked her chin down the street. 

“Run,” she instructed Dan and Phil. “I’m right behind you.”

Dan didn’t even think. He turned and bolted. He could hear Phil behind him, their sneakers slapping loudly against the pavement. Dan could already feel the air leaving his lungs, but he didn’t dare slow down. He expected at every second to hear gunshots, a loud cry as Gracie or God forbid Phil went down, but there was nothing except his panting and the brush of Phil’s skin against his as he caught up to him. 

“This is crazy,” Dan heard Phil murmur in between his deep breaths. 

It was a very large understatement.

Gracie was ahead of them in a manner of seconds, her ponytail swinging behind her and gun clutched in her hand. She wasn't bothered by the steady thump of her backpack as she ran.

“Marilynn will give us a head start,” she called back. “But we should get to your house as quickly as possible. That's where we’ll be safe.”

“For the time being,” Phil added. “If we stay here we're in trouble.”

Gracie nodded, her eyebrows knit together nervously. 

Eventually, Dan and Phil had to slow to a limping walk, accompanied with a frustrated groan from Gracie. But Dan didn’t think there was any way Marilynn’s large army could have caught up to the three of them. And Gracie had proven herself to be too dangerous to pursue alone. 

“We’re almost there anyway,” Dan choked out. “Couple more… minutes.”

Eventually Phil spotted the rooftop of their building, shouting triumphantly. Gracie hung back as Dan dug his keys out of his pocket and opened the door, pointing up the stairs to their flat. 

Gracie blinked. “Okay, so. We’re here.”

“Yeah.”

They wandered up the stairs, Dan’s calves straining past their limit. Once inside, Dan watched carefully as Gracie looked around, trying to keep the excitement from her face. 

Phil cleared his throat. “So what now?”

“Oh.” Gracie blinked. “We should pack up some clothes and stuff and then escape.”

“Escape?” Phil repeated shakily.

“Yes, escape,” Gracie snapped. “It’s dangerous here for us now.”

“Well, who’s fault is that?” Dan muttered quietly. Gracie heard him anyway. 

“What?”

“All I’m saying,” Dan stammered, “is that we could’ve gone with that crazy woman. At least we would’ve been kind of protected.”

Gracie stared him down, long and hard. Dan’s skin crawled at the way her brown eyes bore into his skull. “If you want to survive, you have to trust me,” she finally said, her voice low and melancholy. “If you don’t want to, then I have no problem anymore leaving you.”

It was one of the most terrifying things she could’ve said. 

“Where are we going?” Phil risked asking.  
Gracie thought about it for a second. “Paris. We’re walking the Chunnel.”

Dan stared out the window and onto the street. The sun was setting, casting the eeriest orange glow over the world, like they really were in the midst of an apocalypse movie. Everything was still and quiet, and in the moment, it was easy to forget that Marilynn or her army existed, that his parents and brother, his friends, were either alive or dead. 

For now it was just him, one of his fangirls, and the sole person on Earth keeping Dan from ending his own existence in the nightmarish hell he now lived in.


End file.
